The Ace Of Spades
by midnight-lykos
Summary: The Tremors don't fall in love, the Tremors make love and then make death. Simple as that. So how the hell am I meant to write a Tremor romance fanfiction! shrugs If at first you don't suceed, destroy all evidence that you ever tried.
1. Switch Blades, Mustard Gas and Nunchucks

_"They're speed freaks, neo-nazi's._

_ Sworn to the swastika, supposedly_

_ read and recite "Mein Kampf" like_

_ Mother Goose...And these motherfuckers_

_ can go megaton at the drop of a hat."_

_- Dupree_

* * *

Jeeves could feel his head begin to pound, just like it did every time they did this. The blood was making a steady rhythm and he thought he could almost pick out the beat of one of his favourite songs. The song where they talked about slaughtering people with jagged, rusty blades and hails of bullets. It wasn't as cool as the song where they talked about how the world was coming to an end and we would all die slow and painful deaths. But Jeeves could relate to the first one better, at least in this situation.

"Oi!"

Darwin barked, slapping his brother's well defined chest. The hit was barely felt but the bark was most definitely heard. Jeeves blinked lazily, glancing down at his brother. Why did he always have to drag him back to reality? Reality was for people who couldn't handle drugs. That thought caused Jeeves to grin slightly as his brother shook his head in angst.

"Stay focused, those god damn Jews out there aint gonna slaughter themselves."

Darwin's order was firm. Who the fuck lost a war and made him dictator? That's what Jeeves would like to know. His brother was half a foot shorter than him, had barely half of the muscle that Jeeve's had and still, he ran the show. His word was law and this was the only situation when they obeyed the law. They had never declared him leader, but he was the oldest and he was the only one who seemed capable to keep the trio in murderous and blood thirsty order.

Lester sniggered on Jeeve's other side. Although his older brother was a foot shorter than him, he heard the snigger with clarity. Jeeves snarled and swivelled his eyes downward. He imagined all the different ways he could wipe that smug grin off of his brother's face. He loved Lester, they were brothers, but sometimes...

"Don't you dare! You two cock sucking faggots can sort your god damn lovers tiff out later!"

Darwin snapped, noting the twitching of Jeeves's hands and the growl rising in Lester's throat. He adjusted his bullet proof vest slightly, muttering about he was the only sensible one of the trio and how, if it wasn't for his brains and cunning wit, they would probably been spending their days trying to kill each other and not the targets. Jeeves and Lester grinned. They loved it when their big brother got vicious and they often wound him up, just to see that reaction. It was pretty risky to anger Darwin, but these were boys who didn't know if they were going to wake up dead tomorrow.

Jeeves snapped his goggles on, covering his bright blue eyes with a thin plastic layer. Blood splatter, one of the few down sides of carving people's limbs off with a chainsaw. Sure, his goggles nearly weren't as cool as Lester's Nazi Fighter Pilot pair or Darwin's thin black ones , but they were practical and did the job. The same could be said for his chainsaw. It took up a bit of space - making it difficult to hide - and it was noisy as hell - which has been known to piss the neighbours so much that they feel the need to step outside and, in a kamikaze style, attempt to complain. But he wouldn't let any of his other brother's carry it, they couldn't.

Besides, the three each had their own weapons and they each liked it that way. Like any brothers, they didn't like sharing their toys.

All three could use guns, simple enough. But Lester was particularly good with them, never missing his target. And he also had a knack for machines: jammed guns, shut down elevators, broken chainsaws - he could fix them all. It was a mixture of half attended physics lessons, a few experiments with red and blue wires and sheer luck that had enabled him to get him and his brothers out of some tricky situations.

Darwin was skilled with blades, he could stab, rip, slice, and dice. How thick would you like your steak? The oldest Tremor also had a flare for explosives, never leaving the house without a grenade in one hand and a stick of dynamite shoved in his back pocket. How would you like that steak cooked? Rare? Medium Rare? Too bad, well done was the only option he offered.

And Jeeves? Jeeves had a few things going for him. He was tall, he was strong, true, he wasn't the smartest, but he knew his left from his right. He had the strength and the skill to use a combat shot gun in one hand and a chainsaw in the other. Not only that, but when push came to shove and the trio were left without weapons, his skill with his fists and powerful kicks was unmatched.

The elevator finally came to a stop and Jeeves chuckled as the cheerful ding filled the silent box. They would most certainly leave this apartment block cheerful. As for the rest of the tenants? Tough shit. The stainless steel doors pulled apart and they stepped forward, ready for the blood bath to begin.

The chuckle died in Jeeves's throat and the three brother's cocked their heads in mild surprise. Stepping outside the opposite elevator were three women, arguing amongst themselves.

"I'm just saying, if you'd give me a sec, this bomb would be ready. I could chuck it in there, smoke them out. And you could just stand by the door and slaughter them as they run out."

"And all I'm god damn fucking saying is that although I would love to see these bastards run like a bunch of pansies, crying with mustard gas in their eyes, it would just take the fun out of fucking barging in there and taking no prisoners."

⌠But that isn't practical! You're going to get yourself-"

They finally looked up and the hallway was deathly silent as they examined each other. The three Tremor brothers were clad in their usual outfit of bullet proof vests, wrist, knee and arm pads, 'emo' jeans and heavy German army boots. Lester stood with his double barrelled shot gun, Jeeves with a growling chainsaw in one hand and a combat shot gun in the other, and Darwin twirling a machete in each hand.

Opposite them stood three partially amused women. They too each wore a bullet proof vest but that's where the similarities ended.

The girl on the right had her brunette hair teased into curls, her eyes were spared the excessive annoyance of bobbing ringlets by a red headband. They were a grassy green, much like the new shoots of spring (Bare in mind, this isn't what the Tremors are thinking, that's way too poetic.) and held a playful nature. She donned a pair of 3/4 length cargos, revealing a strip of tanned skin, and a long sleeved matching top, cutting not too low, but managing to give the male population an idea of what she was packing. Speaking of which, in her hands she had been fiddling with some sort of device, twirling a screw driver rapidly, she had glanced up and stopped the motion. She had one Uzi hanging around her chest, a United States Military M1911 in a holster on either side and backpack which she chucked the device into, zipping it up quickly, but no quick enough to deny the brothers a glance. It was filled with screws, wires - red, blue, yellow, the basics - , sticky tape and some more ammunition, just in case the strips and cartridges of it she already had on her wasn't enough.

The girl who seemed to be leading the group had thick black hair and chocolate eyes. Dark chocolate. The kind, where if you added too much coco, it would soon turn bitter. She was slipped into a pair of tight leather pants and a black tank top, which would not only tell the male population what she was packing, but that she was damn proud of it. She had a leather jacket that although usually large on her, was made smaller by the Kevlar. Her eyes managed to roam over and check out the three brothers in a few seconds. But her facial expression revealed nothing about her thoughts. Strapped in a cross on her back were two Samurai swords, the black leather handles only a reaction away. Along the top of each thigh was a strap, lined with thin, round black pouches with open tops. The Tremors noted the glinting of a metal within each top and on closer inspection they would discover that within each pouch was a Ninja Star. And within the pockets of that leather jacket, two pairs of nunchucks. She noted their gaze and shifted the jacket slightly, concealing the weapons again.

(Look, I was limited for weapons and I didn't want to give them all the same god damn weapons as the Tremors! Anyway, those stars are flipping dangerous, you could take your eye out with one of those.)

And finally, the girl on the left. Her silver blonde hair was almost white and had been tied up into a bun, held together by two chop sticks. Her eyes were ice blue and looked as though they could freeze a person or melt a person. Her legs were hugged by a pair of black jeans which flared ever so slightly when they reached the shin. Underneath her bullet proof vest was a black t-shirt. Nothing flattering. Nothing teasing. Just a simple t-shirt. Around her waist was a belt. it had been loosely clipped on and tilted to the side slightly. Along the entire length were tiny magnetic holders and within each holder a switch blade. In one hand she gripped a combat shotgun, The Pancor Corporation Jackhammer combat shotgun to be precise. Jeeves had drooled over the picture of that weapon for many a month but none of the brothers' contacts could get their hands on one. Her free hand was clenching and unclenching itself into a fist and they were able to make out that each hand wore a pair of knuckledusters. Strapped to the top of each thigh was a gun holster and the black handles were barely visible against the jeans. On her back she carried a small black backpack. The zips were shut entirely and it's lack of definite shape drew out curiosity in the brothers.

Over the gnawing of the chainsaw, another snarl could be heard. The Tremors glanced down. Beside the last girl stood a beast. It's lips were pulled back, baring it's teeth and every single strand of it's fur was raised. It looked as vicious as it's eye twitching snarl sounded. A strand of saliva dripped from it's mouth, it was hungry and it was hard to distinguish it's warning snarl from the growl of it's stomach. It's tail was held high in dominance and it stood in a protective position in front of the blonde, loyalty, it was priceless. A wolf? Jeeves grinned, he'd always been an animal sort of person. The last girl arched an eyebrow, slipping on a pair of sun glasses but there was a smile on her face as she clicked her fingers to silence the animal.

Darwin leaned over, cut the power on the chainsaw and silence fell.

_

* * *

_

_A/N: I don't support Anti Semitic beliefs, just for the record. This was basically just an introduction chapter, the hit hasn't even begun. Then again, at the rate that these six are staring each other out, it doesn't look as though anyone's going to get slaughtered...Yeah right. Of course there's got to be a blood bath. It's the Tremors!_

_Review, let me know if you have any ideas, let me know if you want to kick my shins or pat me on the back._


	2. Three Choices

The women were the first to speak. (Aren't they always?) 

"You here for the Weinstein twins?"

It was the middle girl, she looked at Jeeves, expecting an answer. When she didn't get one immediately, she rolled her eyes impatiently, they were adding too much cocoa to this recipe.

"He aint the leader, Isabelle."

It hadn't been Darwin, it didn't sound like Lester and Jeeves was pretty sure it wasn't himself. The other two girls looked at the blonde one. She cracked her gum and jabbed her thumb in the left direction.

"Take a gander to the left and Ill introduce you to Darwin Tremor, the eldest of the Tremor brothers and unofficial leader. He specialises in blades and explosives. Supposedly is the brains of the outfit."

Her tone was sarcastic and if he could see behind those sun glasses, Jeeves would bet his chainsaw that she was rolling her eyes. The three brothers could tell it was pissing off the leader. The first girl sniggered as the middle one dealt the blonde a death glare. But the blonde seemed to smirk even further and continued with her introductions.

"And on your right, you can note Lester Tremor, is well known for his accuracy. The technical one, obviously no where near your level, but hey, he still knows which wire to cut...most of the time."

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the right, nodding to the brunette with the mention of the level of skill with technology. The three women were examining each as the blonde pointed. Assessing the brothers in turn.

"And last, but not least, standing directly in front of you, you'll see the third and youngest Tremor, Jeeves. The brute force of the group, his hobbies include kicking ass, cutting people in half and driving the trio to their next destination."

"Worth eliminating them?"

The blonde paused, cocking her head slightly. She was pondering this considerably. She opened her mouth slightly, then arched an eyebrow as another thought entered her head.

"Yes...and no."

It was a half hearted shrug, as though she wanted to appear impartial and uncaring in her comment. But the answer got raised eyebrows from the other two. They stared at their friend. This was clearly an unusual reaction.

"Now you got me worried, Dylan. Don't tell me you're going soft."

It was a mocking voice from Isabelle and it caused the blonde to snap her teeth together and the wolf to do likewise. She took a step forward, quickly reaching for a switch blade. The apparent leader held up innocent hands and the brothers noted how she and the first woman swallowed slightly. It seemed Dylan was not beyond injuring, or even killing, her own partners.

"I'm just saying, usually we just step aside and watch you slaughter them. Not that I'm complaining-"

She cast the quickest glance at Lester, only her partners saw it and it seemed that this was nothing new.

"-But what's so special about these three?"

"If you'd let me finish, you whore, you'd understand."

"You didn't just call me a hooker."

"I didn't, I called you a whore. Same concept though."

"You two!"

It was a quiet yet firm voice that came from the first. She shot the other two warning glances and the Tremors could tell this was part of her daily routine. Darwin could relate all too easily to having to play the sensible one in the relationship. It looked as though the other two were just like his younger siblings, all too willingly to fight for no reason.

"Charlie ain't always going to be here to save your ass, Isabelle."

"Finish what you were saying."

It wasn't an order from Charlie, it was a polite request. The truth was, if these two were going to fight, Charlie was too far away to get between them in time. Luckily, they both seemed to understand the importance of the situation and the blonde nodded.

"Yes, because any competition should be eliminated. No, because the Tremors help eliminate other competition."

"How so?"

"When these three go in for a hit, they kill everything and everyone in their path. No one wants to do a hit when the Tremors are involved. It's a blood bath. And people don't like to get dirty. Now us, we don't mind playing dirty - well, I know I don't. Point is, if we can do some of the same hits as the Tremors, only get the job done before they get on the scene, we can ensure that we don't run into half the competition we usually do."

Dylan explained casually and the other two nodded in understanding. It was as though the three neo nazis were not in the room, standing only metres away. Their gazes never even flickered back to the men, to check that they hadn't moved their weapons.

Lester and Jeeves creased their brows in confusion. Never before had Darwin not ordered anyone to be killed immediately, especially competition. He hadn't hesitated when it came to that bondsman and two ex cops in the parking lot the other day, so why now?

They glanced at him and noticed a small pool of saliva forming at the corners of his mouth. They followed his gaze and it ended up on the brown haired woman. They exchanged glances and sniggered. Their brother had long been under the misunderstanding that he was a ladies man. He seemed oblivious to the truth and that was that no woman in her right mind would want to sleep with, let alone have a relationship with, a psychotic neo nazi hit man.

"So, what options are we left with?"

"Well, it's most likely going to have to come down to one of the groups backing down and I hate to be the realist here, but it ain't going to fucking well us. I didn't get up at 5 in the morning, to turn around and go back home."

Dylan admitted, glancing towards the door of the apartment where their target was located. The red paint was peeling back and the number 9 had a lost a screw, causing it to hang like a 6 in a cliche fashion.

"But I honestly advise that what ever happens, we do it soon. Those fucking Weinstein twins may be as thick as shit, but their guards sure as hell ain't. They're gonna be swapping shifts in about an hour and you promised me I could have my fun."

"And what the fuck would ever give you three sluts the idea that we'd back down?! The way I see it, we were here first, so you three better scram. This is man's work anyway! Haven't you ever heard of the goddamn three Ks?!"

Lester exclaimed, trying to take control of the situation, since Darwin seemed to be temporarily unavailable. This usually caught a woman off guard and the brothers couldn't help but smile when the first thought by their victim was always Klu Klux Klan. Just because they were white and just because they were racist, didn't mean they were part of the KKK. The KKK was far too moderate for these three speed freaks.

"Kinder, Kuche, Kirche."

The blonde didn't miss a beat, her voice was steady and remained calm. The brothers could feel her gaze, it was almost mocking. It would take a hell of a lot more than a few nazi slogans to trip her up. Her partners arched their eyebrows at these three words.

"They're neo nazis, and like all neo nazis, they believe our job is to make kids, stay in the kitchen and go to church."

She wasn't offended by the idea, none of them were. They had been told too many times where they belonged. Many men had stood opposite them in the past and fired sexual ideas, as well as bullets, at them. And each time, they'd told them where those ideas could be shoved. They weren't feminists - ok, maybe Isabelle had slight feministic tendencies, she wasn't extreme though - but they could pull a hit just as well as any other person.

"If you know where your god damn fucking place is, why the fuck aint you in it?"

Lester and Dylan were staring each other out, even behind the sun glasses, it was clear her gaze was focused solely on him. Isabelle sniggered at this treatment of Dylan. Clearly Dylan never took this sort of treatment and who ever dealt those sort of words to her was either a escapee from the near by mental asylum or they were simply inbreed. Yet even if Lester was crazy, the son of a bitch still had balls and that impressed her.

"Well, you're a fucking pussy, I could ask the same god damn question!"

The wolf was licking it's chops in anticipation, it's glowing amber eyes following Lester's movements. It could sense it's master was going to attack any second now. Just one more comment. One simple sentence and all hell would be let lose. It dared Lester, challenged him to speak ill of her again. The urge to kill was getting harder and harder to resist. Any comment, even an apology had been known to piss Dylan off. But it was to be disappointed.

"Dylan! For the love of Christ! We have two targets waiting to be slaughtered! Their dead bodies are worth a lot of money! We do not have time to sort out your fucking pride issues!"

Charlie was attempting to take control. Isabelle nodded her head in agreement. Dylan gritted her teeth, muttered something dark under her breath but nevertheless, glanced again at the door and sighed. She turned back to the brothers and addressed Darwin.

"As soon as you're done staring at Charlie's tits, you can make a decision. You three have three choices. One, you can walk away right now, tail between your legs like the bunch of pussies you are."

She nodded at the growling Lester. He had his teethed bared and his gun aimed at her chest. But this only caused a smirk to play on her lips. Death was no stranger to her. She had had her fair share of bullet wounds in her life.

While she spoke, the other two women were getting their weapons ready. Charlie checked her guns. Safety off? (That might be a good start). Check. Enough ammunition to supply a third world country for a war? Check. A trigger happy finger? Even better, she had two. Isabelle lifted her arms and pulled the two swords out of their hiding places. She rolled her shoulders and clicked her neck. The blades glinted dangerously in the light. They had been designed by experts, made by experts, for the explicit use by an expert.

"Two, you can try to kill us right here, right now. It sure as hell wont fucking work, not with the temper I'm in. But hey, that warning has never stopped any dick heads from trying before, why should it now?"

She shrugged, lifting the combat shotgun up with her casual hands. She handled it with ease, as though the tool weighed no more than a feather. She noted Jeeves's longing gaze at the instrument of pure destruction and the jealousy in his eyes couldn▒t be hidden.

"The only way you'll get this, is if you pry it out of my cold dead hands."

He grinned and nodded in understanding. He could work with that agreement. He'd kill even a feisty bitch like that for that weapon. Well, depends, maybe they could some sort of an arrangement. For example, he could fuck her stupid and she could hand over the gun. He liked the sound of that.

"Option three is to take the hit with us. Then we split the money fifty-fifty. None of that counting the corpses shit or a head wound's worth more than a stomach wound, just a simple split down the middle."

And with that the three women turned on their heels - well, sneakers for Charlie and Military boots for Dylan - and headed towards the door.

* * *

_A/N: Excuse the excessive use of the F word, however, when you are part of a trio of hit men and you've run into a little bit of trouble and time is running out, I think the last thing of your mind is to use polite language._


	3. Let's Split The Hit

The Tremors blinked at the spot where the three woman had been only moments ago. Their wide eyed gazes turned towards the door. Dylan was leading the group, the wolf at her side. Isabelle was second, gripping her swords tightly, her knuckles had turned white but there was a small smile on her face. A smirk seemed to form on Charlie's face as she brought up the rear. But by far, the biggest grin was on Dylan's face as she lifted up her leg and it one swift movement, kicked the door in. It was a combination of strength and correct technique that had sent the door tumbling down.

The younger Tremors glanced at their older brother, waiting impatiently for their orders, casting fleeting glances at the competition. If they were going to get any of the action, they needed to know now, before it was all taken.

"Aw, fuck it, let's split the hit."

Darwin spat the words as though they tasted funny in his mouth and they most likely did. They didn't like sharing amongst themselves, let alone with a random trio of women. But it was too late to argue and one look at the women right now, told him that trying to fight them and the guards at the same time, would most certainly complicate matters.

The three reluctantly followed in after and helped our three 'helpless' women in disposing of the guards.

Dylan had marched forward, pulling the trigger of the combat gun with ease at three men. All of her bullets ended up in the neck or head region, splattering her and wolf in blood. Speaking of which, the wolf had finally been let lose. It was weaving in and out of the guards, leaping forward and removing people of those pesky jugulars. It didn't howl with delight, there was no time for such luxury, but merely moved on to the next victim. Some one finally twigged onto it's sneaky plan and aimed a gun at it. Dylan whirled around, and in one swift motion of her hand, the guard stopped and gripped his neck. A switch blade was entirely lodged within him and blood began to escape his mouth as his dying body fell to the floor.

Isabelle had helped the cause by assisting three guards in the removal of their heads. She lunged forward and the nearest guard lurched onto her, his last breath coming out in a rasp. She withdraw her swords from his stomach and kicked his soon to be corpse to the floor. She calmly wiped the blood from her swords and slipped them back in. Not that she was done. Oh no. She stepped forward and with two quick flicks of her hands, stopped the two leering guards that had been approaching them. They both went cross eyed in a comical fashion and gazed stupidly at the ninja stars which had been placed in their foreheads. Down they went.

Lester fired his double barrel shot gun and shot a hole the size of Australia in the back of a fleeing guard. He grinned evilly and reloaded. This is what Saturdays were all about. Being with family. Killing people. The important things in life. He turned his gun around and saw his next target.

The guard that had been behind Isabelle fell into a crumpled heap at her expensive and sexy heels. She moaned at the blood all in her hair and muttered about no shampoo ever being able to get it out, but nevertheless, gave Lester a nod.

"I owe you one."

She grudgingly admitted and Lester sniggered. This was one man who had many ways of repaying a debt. Though it was pretty obvious which method was clearly on hi mind for Isabelle. She snarled and lunged forward.

The strength of the wooden handle had been enough to break the neck of the man who had almost caught Lester off guard. He glanced at the damaged and beaten neck, perhaps the weapon was useful after all.

"I guess that makes us equal."

She arched a challenging eyebrow but didn't wait for his response and began to move on in her quest to prove to the population that all though they didn't look like much, nunchucks could kick just about anyone's ass.

Jeeves had started up his chainsaw again and while he shot one man in the chest with one hand, he created an amputee with the other. The man fell under his one leg and screamed with the pain. Ugh. What a pussy! He quickly sent the chainsaw through his neck, splattering his goggles with that thick red liquid that this author just can't get enough of. Anything to shut up that excessive whining. He fired about ten bullets into one guard, taking a step back to get a better grip on the chainsaw and lunge for his next attack. But he felt himself hit something solid and he was as sure as hell that it wasn't a wall.

He whirled around, and came face to face with a slightly panting Dylan. She had just finished a one handed fist fight with an unarmed guard. Her nose was bleeding but she didn't seem to notice. They stood there, simply staring at each other, neither one for words while taking care of business. She tilted her head slightly, examining his handy work and a small smile grew at the sight that met her. He sure knew how to impress a girl. Jeeves glanced down at the Jackhammer and grinned. Now would be the perfect time-

Dylan was only an inch away from him and he couldn't feel her breath through his Kevlar, but he bet it was hot. Hot breath to go with her hot words. The attack had come without warning but he was glad of that, for had he moved, he would have only gotten in the way. In one quick motion she had lurched forward and stabbed one man while repeatedly shooting the other as they tried to sneak up on this giant who only brought pain and death. Sensing they were both well dead, she pulled back, putting distance between them again. And with that, she turned away, making her way towards Charlie.

Charlie had been a little less messy with her bullets and decided to spare herself from the red stains, aiming only at the heart and stomach. After her second corpse fell to the floor, she reached into her pocket and pulled out several small, flat discs. Darwin removed his machetes from the chest of a guard and watched her.

"What the fuck do ya think yah doin'?!"

He demanded as she pressed the big red button that was in the middle of a disc and slipped in under the nearest door.

"Watch my ass. And I don't mean literally."

She told him, moving on to the next door. He shrugged his shoulders and lunged at the nearest guard, landing the blades on either side of the base of the neck. She continued, slipping these discs under every closed door - four in total - until there were none left. She stood back and suddenly brought her sneaker up in a backwards direction, like popping her foot in one swift motion. The guard behind her cupped his balls and swallowed, his knees going weak beneath him. She repeated the process, this time a look of determination on her face. This was too much for the man and he consequently collapsed.

(You know, in those horrible PG13 romances, where the girl always  lift up her foot after being kissed 'by the right guy' gags, yeah, that's the motion I was trying to get there.)

Jeeves watched as along the way, a dying man reached up and grabbed Dylan's right leg weakly. She spat her gum on him and lifted her heavy boot in to the air and brought it down without hesitation. The brains splattered her jeans but she was chuckling at the sickening death she had just dealt. Jeeves stared in awe. He had never seen someone as violent and blood thirsty as himself before, but he was starting to believe that this girl might even put him to shame…nah.

"How much longer?"

"I slipped them under about two minutes ago, so any second."

"Awesome."

It was Dylan and Charlie, having a civil discussion while Isabelle and the Tremors

continued to slaughter the few guards left. The fact that both had just decorated the walls in a new colour - essence of brain - didn't seem to deter them. Even Dylan's dripping nose and a bullet lodged firmly in Charlie's vest couldn't distract them. Dylan gestured to the doors.

"Any idea which?"

"They're in there, positive. There's been coughing, spluttering, all the usual signs."

Charlie explained, nodding to the door that a corpse was propped up against. There were a few wisps of a foreign grey gas escaping from the crack in between the door and the floor. Dylan nodded to her partner, but her eyes were focused intently on that door.

"You're the best, Charlie."

"And you're a fucking psychotic bitch, Dylan."

Dylan shrugged, knowing it was the truth and she couldn't hold that against Charlie. She was glad to have a good enough friend who not only could admit this, but also contributed to it. She began to walk towards the door and signalled the wolf when she was half way there. It immediately was by her side. She leant down and rubbed it between the ears, it's growl was a pleasurable one. But both killers had their eyes trained on that door, watching, waiting.

"Isabelle, get ready!"

Charlie shouted the warning call. It's effect was immediate. Isabelle slipped the nunchucks back into their pockets and picked up two guns from a corpse. She checked they were loaded and nodded at her friend, giving her the all clear.

Darwin pushed the final body away and exchanged confused glances with his brothers. They shrugged, lifting up innocent hands that were ironically covered in the blood of their victims. Dylan stood up, checking her ammo. She turned to Jeeves.

"You want to use this baby, this is your chance, don't fuck it up and don't think I won't expect it back afterwards. When that door opens, shoot what ever the fuck comes out of there - all three of you - until I hold up my hand. Then you stop and let me take over. Got it?"

With out waiting for an answer, she threw the prized object at the youngest Tremor. He instantly threw his own to the ground and caught it calmly. Nodding yes even to the harsh order.

"Fuck yeah."

He examined it with a keen eye. It fitted perfectly into his palm and he almost drooled as his finger slipped around the trigger, ready to give it that gentle pull. This was one fine piece of machinery. And he often thought how funny it was that society frowned upon the usage of such a weapon, yet it continued to design and make similar weapons. Society truly was a hypocrite sometimes.

"Hey, do me a favour, don't have an orgasm and come all over it, thanks."

Dylan rolled her eyes but her smirk was one of approval. The man knew a great weapon when he saw one. And she could appreciate that. In a world full of posers, it nice to know there were still a few genuine people out there who knew more than the difference between the trigger and the safety switch. Jeeves merely grinned, for once in his life, he was going to take an insult with out dishing one back or punching someone in the face. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

The six hit men made a semi circle around the perimeter of the door. Everyone except Dylan with at least one raised gun. Darwin had brought out his German Officer's Pistols and Lester had two Desert Eagles, fully loaded and ready for action.

Suddenly, the handle turned and in a rush of movement, the corpse was sent flying forward. Men began to emerge, coughing and choking, desperate for clean air. They didn't even see it coming. Literally, because whatever gas Charlie had slipped in there, had caused them to start crying. Either that or they were the biggest bunch of pussies the group had ever laid eyes on. Not that it really mattered, they were destined for the same fate regardless.

All five squeezed their triggers and a hail of bullets caused the men to fall where they stood. But the sound of bullets and dying comrades wasn't enough to stop the second wave. They too risked it all for air that their lungs would no longer need. After the third lot of men with death wishes, Dylan shot up a hand. Silence fell. Even the trigger happy Jeeves stopped. They were all waiting to see what was going to happen, at least the Tremors were. The other two exchanged knowing looks and rolled their eyes.

"You have a sick idea of fun, Dylan."

Isabelle admitted as her friend cracked her knuckles, the knuckledusters glinting in the light. But the comment was either not heard or simply not deemed of importance as Dylan stepped forward.

"Ready or not, here I come."

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_A/N: The next chapter is just a little piece on how Dylan has her fun. I would confess that I base the character of Dylan on myself - personality wise - but then you all might grow a little concerned and phone the police, so I won't. _


	4. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Dylan licked her lips, tasting her own blood, and removed her sunglasses. Those ice blue eyes were gleaming dangerously. The brothers had a growing suspicion what the blonde was about to do, but felt it wasn't best to jump to conclusions, especially with her.

As she walked through the entrance, two men attempted to suddenly push past her but she grabbed them by their curly long hair. They squealed and yelped but it did them no good as Dylan banged their heads into a near by wall. The room was a bathroom and it looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in months. The tiles were a grimy green and the toilet was missing it's seat. The taps were rusty and leaking, dripping more water into the puddle below, causing an almost soothing rhythm.

"Fucking hell! Meyer are you ok?"

One exclaimed as she dropped the other to the ground, he was temporarily stunned. She produced a pair of hand cuffs and with one quick snatch, yanked the flimsy shower curtain off of it's rail. The tacky yellow - well, they were sort of a brown colour now - ducks fell to the floor. She clipped one cuff on one hand, brought the cuffs over the rail and clipped them on the opposite hand. The other twin had began to crawl away but before he could get to the doorway where the Tremors all stood, watching intently, Dylan kicked him in the stomach and dragged him wearily onto his feet, cuffing him in the same fashion as his brother. She shrugged the back pack off and stuck her head between the three Tremors.

"You guys can go watch some television if you want, we have about forty minutes, not as much as I hoped for but still enough time for some fun."

She was addressing her two partners who nodded in understanding. They made their way towards the couch, Isabelle kicking off a body and searching for the remote. They ripped off their bullet proof vests and stuck their legs up onto the coffee table. Then a thought suddenly hit Charlie. She snapped her fingers in remembrance.

"Oh, Gary said see if you could find out where they keep their drug and weapon stashes and uh…oh, that's right, and who ordered the hit on Sam. He said there'd definitely be some extra cash for our troubles."

Dylan nodded and pulled her head back in, glancing at the wolf who was obediently waiting at the sink. She scratched it's head lightly, giving it a small smile. It was the first natural smile the brothers had seen her give. She stood up, stretched and clicked her fingers. The wolf bent over and handed Dylan her bag. Dylan pried the black package from it's suddenly gentle jaws and murmured her thanks. She unzipped it slowly and Lester craned his neck slightly.

Within the bag was an assortment of things. She emptied items front of the twins, knowing full well that they were watching with wide eyes at the devices which she would soon be applying to them. Monkey wrench. A packet of cigarettes. A pad of paper. A pen. A pocket knife. A hipflask. Two cans of body spray. A candle, ¼ burned. And a sticky tape dispenser (excuse the childish way of saying it). There was still more inside, but this was all she took out. She removed the knuckle dusters, filled the sink up and threw them in there.

Then she turned to the door way, where the three Tremors stood, watching, waiting. She shook her head and kicked it shut. The brothers stumbled back slightly and Lester snarled, rubbing his near bald head.

"Fucking bitch."

He went to reach the handle, to yank the door open and show her who's boss when a voice stopped him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. She never lets anyone watch, says it spoils the fun. But if you're nice enough, she'll let you see the finished master piece."

Isabelle warned, not taking her eyes off the screen. Darwin nudged Lester towards the television set, deciding it was best to take advice this one time as the results of ignoring such words of wisdom could be unpleasant.

"Sit down ya piece of shit."

The two brothers sat on the floor, each on either side of the couch. They turned their gaze from the small screen and up to Jeeves who had remained, leaning against the door frame. He shrugged and scuffed his foot against the ground, avoiding their gaze.

"There's nothing on this time of day."

That was enough for the other two brothers and they resumed with their intent gazes upon the box, the curiosity of their brother was no concern of theirs.

"Everyone gets one chance to tell me before any torture, so here goes. Where are your drug and weapon stashes? And who ordered the hit on Sam?"

The voice is a bored one but Jeeves can tell she has to say this before every torture, just to give them a fair chance of escaping their fates.

The twins snigger and the wolf snarls at the noise.

"That's just the answer I was hoping for."

Seconds later there's a the sound of yells of pain and bones breaking. No doubt she's using the monkey wrench. A good choice to start with, the broken bones will cause them pain throughout the rest of the process.

"This little piggy went to the market."

She brought the wrench down with a thump.

"This little piggy stayed home."

Her voice was calm and steady, almost drowned out by a second yell.

"This little piggy had roast beef."

This time they managed to suppress a noise but it didn't slow down Dylan.

"This little piggy had none. Whether or not because he was a vegetarian, or if the first one just ate it all, I don't know."

She casually admitted, bringing the wrench down.

"And this little piggy cried 'boo-fucking-hoo' all the way home because he didn't answer

Dylan's god damn fucking questions!"

The final use of the wrench was series of repeated hits against the gasping men. The wrench was then dropped to the tiled ground and there was a shuffle of feet. Two low whimpers were heard and the occasional sniffle.

"Alright, that was the first step. Ready to give me the answers? No, damn. I really hate the next step."

She hadn't given them time to answer and Jeeves laughed, shaking his head. This bitch sure as hell didn't play fair. Then again, they were fucking Jew rat bags, they didn't deserve fair. As far as Jeeves was concerned, they were fucking lucky he didn't get his hands on them. What ever Dylan was giving them couldn't have been bad enough.

"Hey! Where the fuck are you shoving those?!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"You wanted it this way…"

"We can pay you, big bucks, whatever they're offering you - we'll double it."

"Nope, no amount of money could change my mind. I lied, I really do love this part."

"SOMEONE HELP! THIS BITCH IS CRAZY!!!"

Jeeves let curiosity get the better of him and he barged in.

The sight that greeted him was a…unique one.

The two brothers were standing only in their underwear, still handcuffed to the shower curtain. Each had both his eyes tapped open and a lit cigarette plugged in each ear. They turned to Jeeves.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE! STOP HER!"

Dylan was leaning over one, a lit cigarette held over his right eye. She turned an annoyed glance at the Tremor. It was a gaze which said: 'Aw, now you've gone and ruined the surprise'. Almost the sort of gaze a mother gives her little spoilt brat when she goes snooping for Christmas presents and finds them three months early.

"You're disrupting the creative process."

He closed the door and made the mental note to never let allow himself to be alone in the same room with her and a pair of handcuffs, ever.

There were screams of pain and the faintest sound of burning. Soon a wisp of burning flesh drifted past Jeeves's nose and if he were any less of a man, he would have gagged. Luckily, he wasn't.

This process was repeated again. And the reaction was identical to that of the first. Only this time, a quick muttering of Hebrew was spoken.

"Now, you can each keep one eye so you can watch the next bit, that's how nice I am."

There was the sound of cans shaking and the idiotic twins sniggered.

"What are you going to do with that? Make us smell cheap?"

"That's tough, coming from a man who only moments ago begged for his mother."

Her tone was cold and sarcastic. She didn't take kindly to being insulted by her victims.

There was a burst of screaming, the highest pitch yet. It hurt Jeeves's ears and he quickly covered them, gritting his teeth. The other brothers frowned in confusion, casting a glance at the door but quickly deciding it wasn't worth the hassle. The two on the couch simply cranked up the volume.

Jeeves kicked the door in deciding to put an end to this endless screaming. He'd risk pissing her off, so long as the pain was stopped. Just as the swinging door broke the mirror, the noise ceased.

Dylan was holding a lit Zippo and one of the cans of spray. She cocked an interested eyebrow, pressing the button down. The effect was basically that of a blow torch and the already blistering skin of the twins' chests was sent another shock wave of pain. They screamed again and Dylan took the pressure off of the button.

"Ok, please, just stop. For the love of Christ we'll tell you all if you just please stop!"

One of the brothers pleaded, the other had passed out. Dylan nodded and threw the can. She picked up the pen and paper, suddenly calm and professional. The carnage and burning flesh wasn't around her. She was a mild mannered secretary, no doubt her alter ego.

"You have my undivided attention."

"Ok, our weapon's stash is located in a waterfront warehouse. Number 43, dock 11, in the harbour in these parts."

He breathed in heavily, desperate for oxygen.

"The drugs are kept in a basement of an apartment block. The address is 21 Hillcrest Ave, it's in the Jacamar region. The apartment complex is a faded orange colour with the name 'New Dawn Apartments.' It's filled mostly with retired old geezers."

"And the hit?"

"Percy…Percy Litton. We all wanted the bastard dead, be Percy was the only one willing enough to waste the cash on the bullets."

He finally broke down into tears. Sobs that rack his chest and only brought him more pain and a fresh wave of tears.

"That's good. And Meyer?"

She politely added, scribbling down the final words and pocketing the important piece of paper. She looked up, as though an idea had suddenly just hit her.

"Yeah?"

He weakly asked between sniffles.

"Next time, don't take so fucking long."

She spat, pulling a HYPERLINK "/wiki/Heckler26Koch"Heckler & Koch USP .45 ACP handgun with a Surefire X200a Tactical Light (that's a mouthful) out of her pocket and firing twice.

The mutilated and beaten bodies of Meyer and Benjamin Weinstein fell limp and the bar creaked under the sudden pressure. Seconds later, it collapsed.

Dylan wasted no time and shoved her equipment back into the bag. She slung it over her shoulders, picking up the Kevlar along the way. She then edged past Jeeves without looking back at the scene she had caused.

Then she stood in front of the couch, produced the piece of paper and did a small bow.

"Sound's like you got the info."

Isabelle grinned, flicking the television off and stretching. Charlie followed suit, picking up her bag while Dylan grabbed the rest of the vests.

"When have I ever failed to produce the information?"

"Well, there was that once-"

"He was a pussy and started crying before I even touched him. I had to shut him up. That doesn't count."

She argued in her defence and the other two exchanged glances, smirks forming.

"Impatient bitch."

Isabelle coughed and the three broke out into laughter. It was obviously a group joke.

They slung their arms around each others' shoulders and waltz outta there, without so much as another glance at the Tremor brothers, they knew full well that this was by far not the last encounter they would have.

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_A/N: It was originally meant to be a hell of a lot gorier, but I decided against it. If you desperately want a blow by blow, I could post it up for you. And I don't suppose anyone actually noticed, so I'll point it out. The names of the Weinstein twins were Meyer and Benjamin. They are the first names of two famous and historically significant Jewish gangsters Meyer Lansky and Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel. I know, I know… "We get the point, you like the Mafia." But hey. shrugs _


	5. Choking A Donkey

Darwin Tremor blinked as the three women left the building. They laughed at something that Dylan had said and leant their heads back, the noise filling the silent hallway. Isabelle pointed a polished nail at Lester and whispered something into her friends' ears. They both rose their eye brows in surprise and slid the Tremor a quick glance. Charlie jabbed her thumb in Darwin's direction and cocked an eyebrow, silently asking questions. The gaze sifted towards the eldest Tremor. The two stared at Dylan, expecting her to say something. She remained silent however and they nudged her playfully.

"Oh cut me some slack Dylan! I saw you save his ass - which isn't bad by the way. You saved him though, he's gotta mean something to you."

"I've saved your asses before, you assuming that I care about you?"

Dylan joked, clearly trying to avoid being serious about this topic, especially in front of the subject. She didn't need the social humiliation, not right now. Not ever.

"Oh come on! I saw you-"

"Wait a fucking moment!"

Dylan suddenly froze, raising up her hands and slipping a fresh piece of gum in her mouth. The other two edged away ever so slightly, worried they had pissed her off already. Their fears proved to e false though.

"Fuck me stupid, I'm an idiot."

Dylan muttered, shaking her head and whirling around. She marched over to Jeeves, blowing a small bubble and popping it. She tilted her head back ever so slightly, staring him in the eyes. The two pairs were both blue but his were a dark, midnight colour while hers were that pale, almost white. 

"You almost got away with it."

She confessed, grabbing the combat shotgun. She went to pull it out of his grasp but he

yanked it towards him and her along with it. He grinned down at her and she snarled.

Lykos edged closer but she held up her free hand. This was nothing she couldn't

handle. She pressed herself closer and slowly slipped her hand to the base of his jeans, the black material the only thing separating them. He raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively, daring her to do more. She was not one to back down from a challenge. So she calmly, stroked his bare skin with her fingers, taking her time. Her touch was surprising cold and he gasped. He rolled his eyes back with pleasure and with that, she lifted a leg up and kicked him lightly away.

"Maybe next time."

She smirked, slinging the gun over her shoulder. Jeeves grinned, despite himself, he knew he wouldn't get away with the weapon. Isabelle and Charlie were watching wide eyed. This was clearly not the way Dylan usually treated trouble with men. But she gave an innocent shrug, as though she'd done nothing out of the ordinary. She made her way back towards the pair and it suddenly twigged for Darwin.

He snapped, lunging forward and grabbing her firmly by the shoulder. His breath was short and his gaze like steel, hard and steady. (I bet that's not the only thing of Darwin's that is hard and steady…)

"Where the fuck's our money?"

The three women shot genuine looks of remembrance, Isabelle slapping herself on the forehead.

"Oh yeah, pay them Dylan, we'll pay you back when we collect the hit cash."

She nodded at her friend. Dylan sighed, rolling her eyes and reaching into her bag. She grabbed out a large wad of cash. The brothers dropped their mouths at the sight of it. It was a good four inches thick and tightly clasped together with a thick rubber band.

"You could choke a fucking donkey on that!"

Lester spat, nodding at the mass of notes. The other Tremor's nodded in agreement, their eyes following it when she held it up, shifting it to the left, then to the right. She smirked and glanced down at it, unimpressed and not seeing the fuss.

"This used to be the bloody size of my pocket money once."

She muttered quietly, counting off thirty or forty so notes. No one had heard the murmur and she was glad for that. She could explain her way out of a few things, large wads of cash for pocket money when she was a child would not be one of them.

"How much was the hit again?"

She inquired, licking her fingers, counting off the money quickly in her head. Her eyes darted rapidly over the notes, she had clearly done this process one too many times.

"$50,000 in total and we agreed to split it."

Charlie explained, pulling out a set of car keys. She glanced out of a nearby window, her eyes roaming over the parking lot. She sighed and removes her head band. The brown curls are still as springy as ever and bob up and down.

"$25,000 for the Tremors, gotcha'."

Dylan wrapped the rubber band around the rest of the wad and slipped it back into her bag. She slapped the smaller wad into Darwin's waiting hand, adding perhaps - ok, definitely - more force than was needed. This snapped Darwin's gaze away from Charlie and Dylan smirk, raising a cocky and all knowing eyebrow.

"There's your half, deal done. A pleasure doing business, etc, etc."

She gestured with an impatient hand, adding another piece of gum to her mouth. She popped a bubble and shifted her gaze at Darwin's hand which was still firmly on her shoulder. The rest of the group followed her eyes and for a moment, no one said anything.

"Right, we - well, I - killed the Weinstein twins, the Tremor's have been paid, I've got my gun, are we forgetting anything?"

Dylan grunted, yanking her shoulder out of his grasp and turning back towards her partners. Isabelle was casting quick glances at Lester who was admiring her ass in those pants, a look of mild surprise on her face. Charlie was blowing curls out of her eyes but was too lazy to slip the band back on, besides, that would have been logical. She was oblivious, or appeared so, to Darwin's gaze on her Kevlar free vest. Dylan hung her head slightly in shame. What did she do to deserve this? (Note, that was a rhetorical question, because the list of possible reasons is too long even for this author.)

Yet she was completely unaware of Jeeves's grin as he ran an eye down the length of her. Her silver blonde hair had been dyed red with blood, random streaks of the natural colour stood out against the crimson liquid. She had slipped her sunglasses back on, covering up her eyes, making sure the rest of the world was unaware as she observed them. She lifted her arm up for a yawn and her watch slipped down, revealing for the first time that she had a tattoo. Jeeves squinted but the watch dropped back down, along with her arm, and covered it up all too quickly.

"Are we going to stand around here all fucking day or can we piss off already?!"

Dylan suddenly demanded. Isabelle and Charlie blinked slowly, coming back from the land of bobbing ringlets and ass admiring glances and back to the harsh world of reality. They nodded their heads, shifting their bag carrying shoulders.

"Yeah, let's go pick up the hit cash, then I can take a fucking shower. I stink of blood and sweat, no night club this side - or any side - of New York will let me in looking like this."

Isabelle gestured to herself. Her face had been plagued by a few flecks of blood, nothing nearly as vomit inducing as Dylan's drenched state, by definitely enough to get glances that would go from her ass, to her face. A trickle of sweat had made it's way down from forehead and, after much twisting and turning, was now slowly going down her cleavage. A few strands of hair had stuck themselves to her flushed cheeks and she now attempted to brush them away.

"I know Isabelle, you look like you just committed a hit or something!"

Charlie gasped and the three laughed, reforming their little line. Charlie and Isabelle on the ends and Dylan in the middle.

"What on earth would have given you that idea?!"

Isabelle asked, wide eyed and placing a shocked hand to her mouth.

"Well, I have to say, the ninja stars and Samurai swords seemed a little out of the ordinary, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions ."

Dylan admitted, nodding to the weapons with a casual wave of the hands. They chuckled and cast one more glance at the boys.

"Tremors."

Charlie and Isabelle nodded curtly while Dylan saluted. They laughed at the personal joke, swapping high fives. They turned on the spot and placed their arms once again on each others' burdened shoulders and strutted over to the door. Just before they turned the corner, their hands went lower and slapped each others' asses, the sound echoing through the silent corridor. Their form of a reminder of what the boys wouldn't be having tonight.

"Bitches."

Darwin hissed, but he was grinning wildly. Him and his brothers exchanged glances. Lester was rubbing his shotgun, giving the two a rough idea of what he thought of Isabelle in those pants. His smile was perverted and evil. Jeeves was placing a hand on the place Dylan had put hers, moaning at the memories of that cold touch. Even Darwin had to try hard not to think about Charlie's ass he had checked out after her firm orders not to. All three were horny bastards at that moment in time and it was Darwin's quick sentence that stopped them from proceeding to do anything indecent in front of each other. The three weren't beyond that but the eldest was primiarily concerned with authorities showing up. And being caught with their hands in their pants, was not on his lsit of things to do. However, Charlie most certainly was.

"Let's get the fuck outta here."

_A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending, very un-cool, I shall admit. Sorry about this chapter, but I remembered the gun and I sure as hell wasn't about to let Jeeves take it, I'm not a sharing person either. And just in case anyone didn't remember the line, "You could choke a donkey on that!", it comes from one of my all time favourite movies, Lock Stock And Two Smoking Barrels. Awesome. _


	6. Home Sweet Home

_A/N: It hasn't escaped my knowledge that this chapter is in the present tense, and it also hasn't passed me by that another sentence in a past chapter was also in the present…I was simply hoping you wouldn't notice. Oh, darn. _

Charlie presses the small blue button on her key ring. The sound of the alarm switching off echoes in the empty car park. Isabelle's heels click as she makes her way to the passenger side. Charlie unlocks the car and hops in quickly, Isabelle follows suit. Although the idea of parading around public, covered in blood and looking as though they just did something not quite legal, is fun, it'll have to wait for another day. Dylan yanks open the boot and shoves the weapons and Kevlar in there, casting a glance over her shoulders, checking casually for on lookers. Satisfied she doesn't have to kill yet another person and shove them in the boot of her friend's car, she slams the lid down and jumps in the back, Lykos lying down at her feet.

"So, uh, interesting day, huh?"

Isabelle casually notes as Charlie backs out and turns into the main street. Her eyes catch Dylan's in the rear view mirror and the two smirk. Here they go again.

"What?! I'm just saying! It was interesting, there were a lot more guards than expected."

Isabelle defends herself after watching the exchange between the two. They remain silent as she pouts, crossing her arms across her chest. She huffs and purposely looks outside, pretending to be suddenly interested in the passers by.

Lykos places his head on his owners lap and growls slightly. His growl to any one else is a warning, but she welcomes it with a smile. Rubbing him between the ears with one hand, she sends another, tapping down his spine, prodding the places that tickle him gently. He smiles, his eyes half closing. He is finally relaxing, all the tension has been released along with his snarls and murder.

"So, what nightclub did you have in mind?"

Charlie asks finally, knowing this could go on for hours. Isabelle straightens herself up and glances at her sister. She sighs, giving it serious thought. She murmurs some fast words, counting off fingers. This clearly isn't a ten second decision.

"Well, I would love to go to 'Body Language'…only someone got us kicked out of there."

Isabelle slowly says, casting Dylan a annoyed glance. Dylan is lying across the back by now, blowing strands of hair out of her face. Lykos has his head on her stomach now, and she's stroking him gently with a thumb, silently thanking him for his help today. She hears the sentence and catches the gaze, following up with her own.

"The slut shouldn't have picked a fight with me, not my fault."

"Dylan, you shot her in both knee caps! You were then threatening her dying corpse with other torture techniques! The only bloody reason they didn't call the police is because they had a coke deal going on there that night. Any other night and we would have been toast!"

Isabelle exclaims, staring in disbelief at her partner. Dylan shrugs casually, truly unaware at what she's done wrong. She yawns, stretching as far as she can in the restricted space. Lykos lovingly licks a few flecks of blood away from her cheek, revealing another patch of that pale skin. She scratches him under the throat, the ultimate in pleasure for him and a sure sign that he trusts her.

(If you have read White Fang you'd totally understand what I'm saying, but most likely you haven't. The thing is wolves don't like their throats being touched because they know that's where, in the words of Jack London, 'the great vein of life' lies. So, by letting her touch is neck freely, Lykos is basically saying, you trusted me with your life earlier, I trust you with my life now. I love wolves, what can I say?)

"See, they take drugs there. We don't want to be associated with that sort of stuff anyway. Besides, there's no 'we' in this equation. If the police were rung, I would have been arrested, not you guys. I got kicked out of 'Body Language', not you two. If you want to go there tonight, that's fine with me. You know me, I've always got some shit to take care off."

(That's an expression of mine, don't take it literally, that would make it my brothers' expression.)

"Ugh, you know perfectly well you can't not take you…Against our better judgement, we love you."

Isabelle mutters darkly. Dylan places a hand on her heart and pretends to wipe a tear away. Her lower lip wobbles and she sniffs, trying desperately to hold back those heart wrenching sobs. She then suddenly bolts up and leans in between the two, done with her dramatic performance of bullshit.

"Right, what do you want? How much? Are we talking thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of-"

"You really know how to ruin a moment Dylan."

Dylan laughs lightly at Isabelle's comment, slipping her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose so they can both catch her eye.

"It's just one more service I offer, along with such things as hurtful sarcasm, soul-piercing glares and getting banned from night clubs."

They laugh, Charlie turning a corner and pulling up slowly into a driveway of an expensive apartment complex. Charlie opens her wallet, pulls out a card and lowers her window. She swipes the card, nodding to the security camera.

"Hey Freddy!"

The three chorus, Isabelle waving and Dylan giving the guard the honours of removing her sunglasses.

"Welcome home girls."

A voice crackles slightly out of the speaker. The three give one last nod and slip through the newly opened door. Charlie parks in her favourite spot and before the car can even pull to a halt, Dylan and Lykos are out and at the boot. She slugs the bags over her shoulders, passes the Kevlar to Isabelle and a few remaining bits of weaponry go to Charlie.

"Finally, shower time."

Isabelle sighs as they slip into the elevator, Charlie selecting the fifth floor out of the eight offered. The other two groan and nod their heads. It's only 12.32 but already, they're ready to go back to sleep. (Hey, killing people quicker than the plague takes a lot of energy!) Dylan pulls out the small bit of paper and slips it into her wallet, avoiding sending it in the wash like she's done a few times before. Lykos leans gently against her leg, blinking up lazily at her. She cocks an eyebrow, inviting him silently to come with her. But they both know he'd follow her to the ends of the earth and back.

"What time did they say they'd pay us?"

"2pm is the pick up time."

"Location?"

"Mickey's."

"Aw, that place. They only serve pussy-ass weak beers for the 'upper class'."

Dylan spits in disgust. If there's one thing that pisses her off, it's weak alcohol. Especially beer. If it's meant to be so manly, why the hell did they invent Bud Light?! On second thoughts, why did they invent Bud?

"Look, you don't have to get as drunk as a fucking German skunk during October Fest! All you have to do is pick up the cash and scram."

Isabelle argues as the elevator gently pulls to a stop and the heavy doors slowly part. They approach a single door on one half of the corridor, facing the three on the other side. Dylan brings out her keys, slipping one in the lock and turning. Isabelle presses a five digit code. (Cause I hate the cliché four digit code.) The door swings open.

"Jeez Charlie, why the hell did we let you install that security system? It takes a year and a half just to get in."

Isabelle grunts as they make their way towards their 'storage' room. They drop their stuff on the floor and turn on their heels. Dylan will clean it out later, wipe the blood away, reload guns, polish blades, etc, etc. No need to rush the process. Lets take it one step at a time.

"Because, we are wanted by how many other hit-men and important people?"

Charlie points out, kicking off her sneakers and placing them besides the door. Isabelle slips out of her heels while Dylan bends over and unties her military boots. Lykos waits patiently beside her, careful not to brush against the walls and paint them red.

"Why though? When we have Dylan! She's could sneak up on Batman for fuck's sake! You could blink too loudly and it would wake her up!"

Isabelle insists, pointing to their partner. Dylan chucks the heavy boots besides the others. She looks up and turns to Charlie, holding up innocent hands.

"Hey, I don't mind the security measures, I'm cool with it. You want to add more Charlie, be my guest." 

"Really? Cause I was thinking that maybe I could install a retina scanner."

"Oh no! Dylan-"

"Isabelle, she's right, we need as much security as we can get. It wasn't so bad when we first started, people hardly knew us. But now? Well, who knows?"

Dylan shrugs again and heads towards her room to grab a clean set of clothes.

"Awesome, I'll begin the plans after I clean myself up."

Charlie grins, walking off, muttering measurements, tools needed and equations to herself. (I've done that before and for some reason it gets you funny looks in public...) 

Isabelle is left alone and rolls her eyes, muttering dark curses. But she's not alone and the tapping of Lykos's claws against the wooden floor reminds her so. They catch eyes, but he refuses to be the first to blink. Lykos accepted long ago that Isabelle and Charlie were precious to his master, and that therefore, made them important to him. But not the kind of important where he has to love them, the kind of important where he has to protect them, after his master of course. Isabelle edges slightly away. Her and Charlie have never quite understood why she keeps the animal, but she has made it clear, several times, that Lykos is just as precious to her and she is to him.

"Don't roll your eyes Isabelle, the sarcastic bitch look doesn't suit you. Let's leave it to the professionals."

Dylan smirks, throwing a towel and some clothes to the floor of her bathroom. Lykos races in after them, as though his next victim waited inside. Before Isabelle can even open her mouth to protest and or fire an insult back, she slips in and locks the door.

"God damn getting-herself-kicked-out-of-a-nightclub bitch."

"You know she doesn't mean it…But you have to admit, sarcasm is her thing."

Charlie brushes past her, heading into her own bathroom with some fresh gear. Seconds later, the door slams shut and the lock clicks.

Isabelle stares open mouthed at the two bathrooms, lost for words and insults.

"Oh that's right, just gang up on me, that's real mature!"

She calls out finally, turning her back to the doors and marching over to her bedroom.

"Don't be such a Germany!"

Dylan calls out. (Another one of my expressions, anyone who loves history and has studied Origins of WWI, will know.) The three laugh, the mild tension quickly dissolving. Isabelle quickly picks up a few clothes lying in wait on her bed and slips into her bathroom.

The three girls had all brought adjacent apartments a few months ago. Dylan and Charlie had made the plans, while Isabelle was allowed to decorate, choosing what ever colours her heart desired. They hired the tools and did the construction themselves, Dylan proving to know the most when it came to carpentry. Charlie had once in her life seriously considered being an architect, even taking a six month course. The end result had been flawless design and minimum hiccups along the way. The three women had combined the separate apartments, creating an almost house like residence.

The two of the three kitchens had been destroyed and they expanded the last one, fixing it up with stainless steel appliances and a pantry which always seemed to be full. The bench tops are granite and the island which is constantly freezing, never warmed by the sun, is always Dylan's favourite spot to lean against, drinking black coffee, while Isabelle and Charlie eat breakfast, like civilised people, at the breakfast bar. The large window in front of the sink provides the girls with a view of the not so distant ocean. Who ever can be bothered to do the dishes - usually Isabelle - can, and most likely will, end up simply staring out, lost in her own thoughts.

When it came to bathrooms, the girls had made the wise decision of keeping the three separate ones. It isn't so much that they all spend hours on end, stuck in there, more that space is limited inside each one. And they all felt they would feel more comfortable with keeping the bathrooms divided. And the arrangement works wonders. There's no waiting around after a hit, desperate for a hot, or cold, shower. There's no banging on the doors at ten o'clock in the mornings, demanding to be let in. It's brilliant.

They had done the same process to the lounges as the had done with the kitchens. The best situated was chosen and the others destroyed. Charlie had wired up the surround system and cable, insisting that the Sky Guy bugger off, because he was clearly trying to con them into paying him for working three hours on a job that could be done in twenty minutes. The television isn't enormous, but it's certainly a good 46 inches, even though Dylan had demanded a minimum of 50. The other two had merely cocked an eyebrow and shook their heads. No.

Isabelle had gone for chocolate leather couches, complimenting the Spanish white walls. Isabelle had decided on a colour that would allow her to chose multiple colours when it came to feature walls. The lounge one is an earthy brown, a shade similar, but not identical, to the couches. Isabelle had decided that a dark grey, nearly black, was the only option for the kitchen. Her bedroom has a crimson, almost blood red, wall. Charlie, a pine green. Dylan, a deep purple, almost blue. The colours themselves may not work together, but when in any of the mentioned rooms, you can't see the feature wall of the others, ensuring that nothing clashes. (Or else Isabelle would just faint).

With the extra space created from the destruction of the two kitchens and two lounges, the three had designed and constructed a few extra rooms. A laundry, because using a Laundromat for blood soaked clothes tends to be a bit awkward. The 'storage' room, by far, Dylan's favourite room, next to her bedroom, literally and metaphorically. Charlie has her own special room for working on her devices, fixing guns, perfecting any machine that can be perfected.

The three combined apartments have provided the safe haven the three sought oh so desperately ever since they had entered the business. They found it took them a good three weeks to adjust to each other's habits, but they make sacrifices when necessary and the result is the girls being able to live, somewhat, harmoniously. They have a safe location, it's central but not over crowded. It is discrete and blends in with the rest of the world. No one knows of their true profession and they prefer it that way. In society's eyes they were simply three girls who were trying to get by in life. Good thing society's blind, or else they may have a problem on their hands.

_A/N: pretty boring chapter, I admit, but I felt it necessary to describe their home. You might whine if I didn't, then again, some of you will whine because I did. Meh. shrugs I might be up loading a Dylan Song Fic soon. I know I tend to focus too much on her and plan to correct this, and a few other faults, very soon. Any ideas for how the Tremors and The Trio should meet again? I have a few, but I'd appreciate your input. I serve only to please. Bows Yeah, right. Scoffs And don't worry, they will most certainly not to forget to pick up the hit money. Whether or not Dylan decides to get drunk and get herself in another bar brawl, that's entirely up to me. But I think the other two may frown upon this ever so slightly. And you do not want to have to deal with a pissed Isabelle nor a angry Charlie. So, maybe not. Oh, and I need names for the next hit. So, any enemies that you have and would like to be slaughtered in this mildly amusing fanfic, please, name them and I will ensure their throats are slit, at least. _


	7. Mint Tits

Jeeves Tremor yawns, his huge mouth gaping open to reveal a not so perfect set of teeth. He wearily drags his keys out of his jacket pocket, approaching his beloved car. There's a large gob of spit on the driver's window. No doubt a present from an offended Jewish citizen. He grins, wiping the spit away without a care in the world. Perhaps having a Swastika on the bonnet of a car was not one of his best ideas, but he just couldn't resist. Lester opens the boot, lugging in the tools of their trade. Darwin is already in the back, counting out the money. Jeeves leans against the car door and blinks slowly. The sun is ever so slowly, beginning its afternoon descent, it would take a few more hours for the setting to become obvious, but the sun would eventually slip away into nothingness, and with it, the life of the day people. Out of the darkness, a new form of life will arise. The form we know fondly as the nightlife.

A sudden kick in the shin drags the giant away from his thoughts. He growls, knowing full well it's going to be either one of his brothers. If he was a gambling man, he'd bet on Lester.

A quick glance downwards and his suspicions are confirmed. The middle Tremor is glaring defiantly up at his little brother. Jeeves bares his teeth, meeting the glare with his own.

"Pull your god damn finger out of your fucking ass and get in the car! It aint gonna drive itself ya know!"

Jeeves clenches his fits tightly and slowly uncurls them, clicking his neck. Lester laughs at the gesture. Any other man would back away, his tail between his legs and his head hung low with shame. But Lester has faced this monster far too many times to be afraid. Demons didn't scare this Southern boy.

"Get in the fucking car! Both of ya!"

Darwin orders, leaning out the open back window. His voice is firm, he's clearly not in the mood. His goggles are off and his light green - yes, Darwin Tremor does have green eyes, I am that obsessed to know - are glaring ferociously at his little brothers. As though his glare would solve all his problems. Lester skulks over to the passengers side of the car, muttering dark words under his breath. Jeeves scuffs his heavily clad foot against the concrete and kicks the car wheel. He finally sighs and slides in.

"Where we going?"

He inquires, arching an eyebrow and glancing at his oldest brother in the rear view mirror. Darwin sighs, slumping against the back seats. He runs a hand through his greasy blonde hair and gently tugs at it. His glance falls to the wad of cash in his other hand.

"Fuck it, let's go get pissed."

Darwin finally grins, shoving the stack of bills into his jacket pocket. A safe place no doubt. He lurches forward and points to a near by street.

"Down that road there's a motel, let's book ourselves in for a couple of nights and then have us some fun."

He nods to his youngest brother, patting him on the shoulder in encouragement. Jeeves nods in understanding and starts the car. The engine is quickly brought to life and breaks the silence of the parking lot. Without checking for on coming traffic, Jeeves skids into the road. A near by car screams to a halt and the owner follows with an onslaught of horn beeping and violent curses. The other two brothers are unfazed by the near collision, the one thing they can't order Jeeves to do is to is to drive moderately safely. Besides, the safe way is the slow way.

Lester opens the glove compartment and yanks out a few old towels. He throws one to Darwin and takes one for himself. They wipe the blood off of their faces and arms, trying to make themselves look slightly presentable. Darwin tears off his remaining Kevlar vest, Lester had thrown his into the boot along with the weapons. Jeeves keeps his eyes on the road, for once, and watches out for any motels. Seconds later he sharply pulls to a halt. Lester lunges forward, whacking his head against the glove compartment ever so slightly. He shoots his brother a death stare as he starts reversing.

"This the place?"

"Good, now make yourself look slightly decent. I know you find it hard enough normally, but try."

Darwin mutters, chucking his towel to the driver. Jeeves quickly removes the obvious blood patches and loosens the straps of his Kevlar. He shrugs out of it and passes it to the back seat. They step out of the car and head on inside, each carrying his own bag of clothes.

The receptionist's eyes widen slightly at the sight of the Tremors. Her mouth opens slightly, it closes, then opens again. The look on her face says it all. Please change direction. Please, do anything but talk to me.

"Can we book a room for…three nights?"

Darwin bluntly inquires. No please. No excuse me. No good afternoon. Simply, you, ugly, room, now.

She smiles weakly and nods. Her head disappears as she types some words into a computer. Minutes later she emerges, key in hand. She manages to blurt the words out, her eyes rapidly darting to the biggest Tremor.

"Room 29, located on the second floor. Just take a right from the elevator and go right to the end of the corridor."

Darwin snatches the key away and they strut over to the elevator. They feel the woman's gaze on them as they enter and as the doors close, they pull the fingers.

Darwin unlocks the door and kicks it in, leaving a red boot print on the white door. Jeeves takes the fold out double bed in the couch. The other two don't argue. Long ago they decided that Jeeves always got the biggest bed, it always kept him happy. Lester takes the single bed opposite Darwin's. All to soon, the television is on. Darwin frowns at his little brother.

"Hour an hour ago, you said nothing was on this time of bloody day!"

"Of course there is, there always is. But Jeeves was too busy listening to that bitch's torture."

Lester nods to the brother, his voice is filled with disgust at the mention of the violent woman. But Jeeves remains silent, pretending to be intrigued by the box in front of him. When Darwin opens his mouth to point out a no doubt, true point, he turns up the volume. His arm is stretched out over the top of the three man couch, his eyes trained almost unblinkingly on the picture before him. The two laugh at him, Darwin pushing Lester out of the way as he grabs the shower first. He slams the door shut and locks it quickly. Not like the lock would do anything really. If push comes to shove and the other two really want to get in there, they'll get in there. Jeeves will kick the door in or Lester will use his shot gun to blow off the lock.

Lester sits himself on the couch besides Jeeves, drinking the complimentary carton of milk. A small trickle slips down his unshaven throat but he seems unaware of it, continuing to drink. Jeeves changes the channel, flicking through the day time television. He glances at the near by clock. 1.17pm. He groans, any decent nigh club wont be open for a good six hours yet. And even then, it'll be quiet.

"You so wanted to fuck her."

Lester suddenly says, throwing the empty carton into the kitchen sink. He lets out a small belch and returns to the television, as though he hadn't said anything.

"Surprised you even noticed, you had your eyes glued to the Italian's ass."

Jeeves admits, staring at the clock, willing time to get a move on. Lester nudges him half heartedly.

"Hey, she was fucking hot. That cleavage, that ass in those pants. Any straight guy would bang her. Shit, even bet she could turn gay guys straight."

He defends himself. Jeeves looks down at the brother, then resumes back to his mind bending skills of time watching. Two minutes have passed.

"So was Dylan, the tits she had under that Kevlar, mint. Anyway, she was sick as, fucking crushed a guys head in with her foot."

He grins fondly, remembering the somewhat evil chuckle that had resulted from the crime. The woman has issues, there are no doubts in his mind about that, but he isn't one to talk. He has done a fair share of tortures in his life time. He will admit, however, that his tortures had never been quite so…creative. He preferred the simple beat them to a pulp method. He had two perfectly good fists, no need for a monkey wrench.

"That Italian and those blades though, shit. I almost starting spanking right there, right then. Three heads, clean off, in the first two minutes."

"Good thing you didn't pull it out, she would have been severely disappointed."

Jeeves roars with laughter. Lester snarls and within seconds they are wrestling on the couch. Jeeves shifts his weight and they roll on to the floor, with a loud crash. There is a bang and yell of protest from the room below. But the curses fall on deaf ears as the two brothers continue their match.

"I can't leave you two alone for five fucking minutes!"

A pissed off voice exclaims. The two freeze. Lester has both his hands wrapped around his brother's thick neck, a look of pure determination across his face. Jeeves is half way through a kick, which will send Lester flying into the television. They turn their gaze to their unofficial leader.

Darwin Tremor is standing in a pair of dirty white jockeys, pulling up a somewhat clean pair of jeans. His skinny chest is bare and has several small streams of water from his wet hair, trickling rapidly down. He buttons up the pants with ease, shaking his head like a dog. The fighting pair are flecked with lukewarm water. But it's hard to tell where the sweat ends and the water begins. Silence falls and they interpret it as a sign to continue. Jeeves alters his aim, completes the kick and Lester is sent sprawling into a near by wall. Another angry holiday goer adds the Tremors to his list of people never to room

next to again. Darwin sighs, hanging his head in shame.

"Cut it out! I don't wanna get kicked out of the hotel, for once."

"Only cause you reckon we might run into that brunette if we go clubbing for a few nights."

Lester sniggers. Bad move.

Darwin snatches him up and gets him into a head lock. Jeeves laughs, edging over to the bathroom.

"Let me go! Ya idiot! That big faggot will use all the hot water!"

Lester squirms, desperate to get to the shower before Jeeves. Darwin rubs his fist into his stubble covered head and chuckles. The bathroom door closes and locks. Darwin releases his grip and shoves his filth covered brother away. He brushes some dirt off his arms and stalks off to his bedroom to find a t-shirt.

"Fucking cock sucking pussies. Two against fucking one."

Lester swears darkly, returning to the couch. He notices the channel has been left on Opera.

"Aw shit!"

He yelps, scrambling for the remote. He can't find it and in a desperate attempt, he does the unthinkable and actually uses the buttons at the base of the black box. But they're broken.

"And our next guest, a dear friend of mine, Tom Cruise."

"Fucking hell!"

His pace quickens and he tries to block out the cheers from the audience. He yanks off the cushions. Tears out the seats. Shoves his hands down the sides. But it's all in vain. The remote's gone.

There's a deep laughter from the bathroom and Lester snaps his eyes up.

"Ya bastard!"

_A/N: I can all too easily relate to the remote hiding. I do it all the time. And I felt like any good brothers, the Tremors' hobbies would also include pissing off each other. Reviews? Anyone? Why do I bother asking? (Rhetorical question) _


	8. HumanaWhatNow?

Dylan sighs, running a hand through her nearly dry hair. Lykos yawns, stretching from the foot of the bed. In one swift motion he leaps onto the floor and is at her side. She turns from the window, blinking rapidly. Her smile at him is a small one, genuine, but small. Her mind has been else where, thinking back to the past, many years ago. She shakes the memories off, just like Darwin had shaken the water off earlier. She raises her blue eyes and checks her watch. 1.37. She's still got time.

She pushes open her bedroom door, heading straight for the kitchen. Another black coffee, then she'll go collect the hit cash.

But she walks into some problems.

"What?"

Isabelle nods to her waiting car keys and wallet on the table.

"You haven't got time for another black coffee! You know that shit makes you sleepy anyway."

(Coffee does make some people sleepy, trust me, I'm one of them.)

"But-"

"No buts."

"Just one more?"

"Dylan!"

"Oh alright woman! There's not need to nag me to death."

Dylan finally gives up, snatching up the keys and ramming her wallet into her leather

jacket. Isabelle's firm eyes follow her to the door. Lykos exits first, then Dylan. She rolls her eyes before slipping her sunglasses on. Isabelle smirks triumphantly. Turning back to the television. Charlie turns her head, her gaze following shortly after, towards her partner.

"You do nag her, you got to admit."

The two catch each others gazes and laugh. Isabelle sighs finally and jumps back on to the chocolate seat. She mutes the adverts.

"Oh, fuck yeah, but it's fun."

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Dylan heads towards her Hummer, her eyes lighting up at the sight of it. She hasn't driven it in, what? Three days? That's three days too long for her. The black paint job blends into the wall behind it. The chrome hubcaps catch random rays of light that have managed to sneak into the car park, reflecting the thin rays. She opens the passenger side for Lykos. He obliges and jumps in, making himself at home on the leather interior. She closes the door gently and heads over to her own side. When she gets in, Lykos is sitting straight up, his tail brushing ever so slightly from side to side in anticipation. He loves the growl of this engine. She humours him and slips the key in. Seconds later the peaceful silence of dim basement is shattered. Lykos grins at her, his jaws parting to reveal those razor sharp teeth. She puts her foot to the pedal and heads over towards Mickey's.

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Charlie glances at Isabelle's relaxed body. She pokes her stomach gently with her toe and finally switches off the television.

"Right, which night club is it?"

Isabelle groans, lifting a tiered head. Her eyes are the sleepy colour of milk chocolate.

She scratches her head and shrugs, as though the thought of going to a night club earlier had merely been an impulsive urge and now she couldn't care less. But Charlie knows the truth.

"Look, just tell me the name and then you can go have a nap. It's a Saturday, you always go clubbing on a Saturday."

"I dunno…'Busted'?"

It's an all time favourite of hers and a back up when her brain refuses to work properly, like now.

Charlie nods, yawning and blinking slowly. They both stand up, stretching. Their legs go weak beneath them however and they are sent back down to the couch. They moan in unison, glancing at their bedroom doors.

"We'll get up, any minute now."

Isabelle murmurs, her eyelids becoming too heavy. She grabs a near by blanket and covers herself.

Charlie nods in agreement, snatching up some of the blanket and covering her cold body.

"Definitely."

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Dylan slips into the dark bar, refusing to remove her sun glasses. She traces the familiar path. First past the 'public' area, friends and family, relaxing on a Saturday afternoon, sipping a quiet beer or two. Next comes the actual bar. The bartender raises his eyes and noting it's her, quickly lowers them back to the pint he's pouring. The jukebox is steadily playing a Rolling Stones track. She smiles. A personal favourite, Paint It Black. Lykos is by her side, his dominant stance and tail a warning sign to the other pub dogs. They begin to snarl, following their instincts against the wild, but a snap of the teeth from the wolf turns the warnings into whining. They lower themselves, so their bellies scrap the ground, granting him his supremacy and much desired position of alpha among them. And now to the seedy back, filled with men from the underground. She spots Gary sitting unhappily opposite his favourite table. She arches an eyebrow, approaching him.

"Not the usual place I notice."

She's smirking while she says it, her posture relaxing slightly. It's a gentle joke but Gary still mutters dark words.

"I got kicked out for the day. Some big shot Mafioso 'needs' the table. Apparently he rates pretty high, requested a table like mine, in a safe corner. So out I go. Some bastard by the name of O'Doherty, or something like that."

The name wipes that smirk straight off of Dylan's face. She tears off her sunglasses, staring Gary straight in the eye. Lykos raises surprised ears. The look on his face one of curiosity.

"What name did you just say?"

"O'Doherty."

He shrugs, repeating the name with indifference. Of course it doesn't mean a thing to him, there's no reason why it should. Dylan quickly glances over her shoulders, those ice blue eyes darting rapidly from side to side. With anyone else, it would be funny. Even with Dylan, it's funny. However, Gary can tell it's not only serious, but also personal, it always is with Dylan. He remains silent until she turns suddenly back to face him.

"What time did the barkeep say they'd be here?"

Her voice is firm, demanding his full attention. He racks his brain, but it's gone temporarily blank. He pauses for too long and she lunges forward, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him close. Their faces are only inches apart and she can feel his smoker's breath engulf her but second hand smoke is the last thing on her mind right about now.

"What time, Gary?"

"Um…five? No, wait, maybe four…No, five, five thirty!"

He stumbles, choking on his weak words. She shoves him away quickly after his final conclusion. The glasses return to their usual place and her back straightens as she regains her posture. In a swift motion, she up turns the collar of her jacket and shakes herself, ridding her mind of unwanted thoughts.

"Anyway, I got the info."

She grunts, slipping the piece of paper on to the table. But she doesn't lift her hand. Experience has made her rich…, rich with wisdom that is. (And money of course)

"I can't remember a time when you couldn't get the info."

Gary remarks, pulling out two wads of cash, one thick, the other still worth while. They swap and she tucks the bills away, her watchful eyes keeping track on everyone else's.

"That's because there's never been such a time."

"Really?"

It's a scoff and Dylan lurches forward, slamming both hands down on the table. He can feel her glare and he fidgets slightly, trying to avoid it. Her muscles are quivering, causing her hands and therefore, the table, to shake. She leans in closer, her breath scratching his neck.

"Really, really."

And with that, she turns around and stalks off to the bar, Lykos hot at her stomping heels. He casts the worried man a smug glance, his jaws parted, revealing those two rows of blades his owner calls teeth.

Gary shivers slightly, glad he had decided long ago never to marry. If that was the temper of a single woman, imagine the one of a taken one. Ugh. He quickly downs the last inch of beer in his pint and picks up his jacket. He nods at Dylan on the way out, and as per usual, he merely receives raised eyebrows of acknowledgement.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan looks to the barkeep.

"Black Russian."

She nods in confirmation, answering the silent question. About thirty seconds later, a full highball glass is shoved under her nose. She throws a ten dollar bill in return. She sips it.

"Keep the change."

And suddenly her arm leans over the counter and helps itself to a opened bottle of Bacardi. She unscrews the cap and adds another shot of rum. Sensing it's strong enough, she suddenly tilts her head back and skulls the black liquid. Seven seconds later, the empty glass is returned to the owner.

"Another?"

"Not this time."

Dylan admits, jumping off the stool. He frowns slightly. It's usually two, no more, no less. She slides her glasses down, raising a questioning eyebrow at his confused glance. He swallows, blinking rapidly and quickly decides to fetch an 'urgent' keg from the back room. She scoffs, brushing past the jukebox. A vomit inducing love song is being played to the reminiscing patrons. Her fist is brought down sharply at just the right angel. There's a click and within seconds, the song has changed.

Heartache Tonight, The Eagles.

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Charlie and Isabelle are entwined in an awkward position on the couch. Charlie is snoring ever so softly and there's a small puddle of drool on the cushion that Isabelle is using. Dylan glances down at Lykos, the concern etched clearly on her face. She takes out her phone, not willing to let this opportunity pass her by. Silently, she zooms in and seconds later, the photos are saved.

Dylan glances at the clock. It's 6.53pm. After picking up the money, she had gone for a drive, her mind racing along with the vehicle. Lykos had remained mostly silent, whining whenever he felt his master slip too deeply into her subconscious.

She better wake them up. Isabelle will go ballistic, should she miss a moment of precious clubbing time. She coughs but the two remain dead to the world. She coughs a littler louder but to no avail. She's groaning internally. Just before she can open her mouth to finally order the two to wake up, Charlie stirs.

"Ugh…"

"It's almost seven, I'm gonna get changed. Be ready in ten."

Dylan calls over her shoulders, making her way towards her bedroom. Isabelle snaps her head up, falling off of the couch. The look on her face is one of pure horror.

"Ten minutes! What the hell can I do in ten minutes?!"

"Fine, fifteen."

Dylan sighs, closing her door shut, ending the conversation. Isabelle rushes to her own room, quickly going over her clean clothes in her head. Best not to argue with the designated driver of the group. Charlie is left, scratching her head, yawning.

"Humana-what-now?"

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_A/N: O'Doherty is an Irish name - obviously - which translates into 'hurtful'. _


	9. Pause The Updates

Alright, for the two readers I have, one of whom is my best mate, so she has to read it, so that makes... for the one reader I have...I'm in germany right now, doing an exchange and the chapter I had nearly finished was kinda left at home...oops? Hopefully I will have chance to update.


	10. He Cleans Up Nice

Darwin Tremor glances at himself in the mirror. His hair is no longer greasy, but it's remained un-brushed, sticking up in weird places, at odd angles. He's wearing a black pair of jeans, his only pair which have never been used for a hit. A red dress shirt, half tucked and half tucked out - he was distracted by Lester's yells of protest of having to watch Opera because _none_ of the buttons on the television worked. His Chuck's are tied tightly, assorted graffiti from long car trips is decorated across the sides.

He presses the razor to his throat and slowly pulls it up. The coarse sound of the blunt metal being pushed to it's limits against his stiff stubble fills the quiet bathroom. He brings the tiered object back to the small puddle of water in the basin and swishes it around roughly. He begins another stroke and hisses half way through. But he has to finish the stroke now. The blood drips slowly into the water, dispersing instantly.

(That's because the red blood cells take up too much water and burst. Just thought you'd like to know.)

"Fuck!"

Darwin places his left thumb over the small cut and resumes the task at hand. One more stroke and the time consuming task that we call shaving is complete. He rinses the razor casually and throws it back into his bag. He removes his thumb slowly and sure enough, the bleeding has stopped. He grins, running a hand over his clean face.

"You are one sexy bastard."

He snatches up his black dress jacket and shrugs himself into it. He grabs a comb from the bag and does a few strokes, glancing egotistically in the mirror once again. But his eyes widen in disgust at the sight that greets him. He yelps and throws the comb to the ground as though it just given him the plague. He quickly rushes his hands wildly through it and sighs at the messy sight. There we go, something he can be confident about in public.

"You two ready?"

He inquires, sticking his head out of the bathroom. Lester is back on the couch. He's cleaned up and shoved himself into some reasonable decent clothes. A pair of sneaker covered feet are crossed on the arm of the couch, occasionally twitching. A hand is shoved under his olive green shirt, scratching his lower stomach. His eyes don't move from the flashing figure on the screen.

"Ugh."

It's a yes, at least that's what Darwin assumes. He turns his gaze to the youngest Tremor. Jeeves is leaning against the front door, a heavy military boot is tapping impatiently. His jeans are black, blending in with his midnight coloured Metallica t-shirt. He has a denim jacket flung over his shoulder. The Mohawk has been destroyed and rebuilt from scratch, only inches away from the ceiling. He's twirling his keys around his finger, glancing at the clock every twenty seconds, cursing his older brother. Darwin shakes his head in exasperation.

"Alright big foot, we can go now."

Jeeves grins, yanking the door open and marching down the hall. Lester and Darwin exchange glances. One of them has to say it. It's instinct to mock their little brother. And these boys follow their instincts.

"Delusional idiot."

Lester finally mutters, pressing the little red button in the corner of the remote. Silence falls. He stands up, yawning. He tugs himself into his leather jacket and picks up the motel key. Darwin's already out the door and Lester locks it behind him, jumping into the lift after his older brother. He wipes a smudge off his face, giving himself a final once over in the metallic surface. Darwin sniggers, pressing the ground floor button.

"Now who's delusional?"

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Isabelle runs a hand through her hair black hair. A critical eye examines the chosen clothes. A tight sleeveless top, exposing her mocha coloured Italian arms. A mini skirt reveals long, slender legs which reach down to a pair of black high heels, her painted toe nails shown at the ends. A small leather jacket hugs her shoulders, she'll later discard it to Dylan when she gets too hot from all the dancing. Speaking of Dylan, there's an impatient tap on the door. She rolls her eyes, here it comes…

"Move it or lose it!"

A threat from Dylan, no surprises there. She yanks open the door and Dylan is leaning against the frame, her eyes are half closed. She hates clubbing, despises it. But the last time she didn't go with them, the two ended up drink driving. A cop had pulled them over and Dylan had to call up an almost forgotten favour to have all charges dropped and the night forgotten from the cop's memory. It was a close call, too close. Since they refused to give up their hobby, she was forced to drag her ass after them at least once a week and ensure there was one designated driver.

"You didn't take a nap, did you?"

Isabelle snarls, resenting the idea of having to be seen with a grumpy Dylan. Dylan shrugs, casually admitting sleep is for the weak. She'll be fine, she's just playing dead. Isabelle glances over what she's wearing. A tight pair of dark blue jeans and a low cut skive with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow but nevertheless, it reveals her cleavage. A clean pair of boots, tied tightly and ready to crush the toes of those who don't take the hint. A denim jacket is gripped in one hand while the other supports her against the wood.

"I don't need no stinking nap. Now let's scram."

"Don't you ever have fun, Dylan?"

Isabelle sighs, following her to the door, Charlie hot on their tales. Dylan bends down and scratches Lykos between the ears. She leans close and murmurs something gently. He licks his chops and gives a growl of understanding. She smiles, standing up again and following the others into the hallway.

"I do have fun, I just put work before pleasure, that's all."

"Your work is your pleasure."

Charlie scoffs, flicking a curl out of her eyes as she punches in the code and ensures all their money didn't go to waste on an unused system. Her brown hair is clean and it bounces gently as she walks down the corridor. Her hips are hugged by a pair of designer, blue washed jeans. A fine and detailed pattern has been hand sewn up the right leg. The hem of her blood red v-neck top reaches barely to the waistband of her jeans, rising whenever an arm does.

Dylan shrugs as the lift goes down. She sure as hell aint gonna deny that she enjoys kicking ass. Charlie and Isabelle roll their eyes, catching each others' gaze. The two sisters have to wonder sometimes why they teamed up with the psychopathic blonde. Then again, it's easy money. Isabelle contacts the customers. Charlie designs and builds the technology. And Dylan slaughters the majority of the victims.

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Darwin glances at the long queue for entrance and laughs. They're fucked if they're gonna wait that long. He signals for his brothers to follow him and they step in line, Darwin at the front, Jeeves bringing up the rear, glancing longingly at a near by Hummer. The bouncers hold up firm hands as the eldest approaches. They're two leather clad idiots, large not with muscle.

"No jumping line."

Jeeves cocks an un-amused eyebrow and they slowly run their eyes up the length of him. Glances are exchanged and they quickly take a step back, revealing the doorway to the busy nightclub.

"Go right ahead."

The three Tremors enter, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust themselves to the sight that greets them. The lights are flashing and the music is blaring. The bodies of the dancers are caught like still frames. The air is hot with sweat and promises to make some girl very happy tonight. Booths are filled with watchful men, some on stag parties, some just out for a good time. The ladies are on the dance floor, displaying what's for offer. As the occasional guy stands up, encouraged by his friends, they exchange glances between each other. Who shall it be? Who will be the lucky - or in some cases, unlucky - lady?

The girls can wait, the first order of business is alcohol. For the barkeeps sake, this place better sell good beer. They approach the bar, Darwin pulling out a fifty dollar bill and readying himself to order six beers, and raise curious eyebrows. 

"You just couldn't stay away, could ya?"

Lester grins, his eyes running down Isabelle's left leg, then her right one. The three women glance up from their drinks. Isabelle is sipping a Bloody Mary, Charlie a Daiquiri and Dylan, a coke. Charlie casts Darwin an approving look. She's got to admit, he cleans up nice. Even Isabelle can't deny Lester is human.

"What can we say? We're suckers for trios of crazy neo-nazis."

Isabelle shrugs casually. Charlie and Dylan grin, knowing full well that Lester is doomed. He may think he's got the moves, but he's never encountered anyone quite like Isabelle. Darwin changes the fifty for a twenty and catches the eye of the barkeep.

"Three Krombachers."

He tosses one to Lester and one to Jeeves. He glances for a free booth, and even if they're all full, he can make one free. As lucky would have it, there's an empty one with their name on it. He nods his head towards it, swinging down some beer.

"You guys want to sit down with us?"

He inquires to the group, but his eyes are focused on Charlie. She gives him a small smile, but dare not make any promises without the approval of the gang. The two sisters swap looks, then they both turn their gaze towards Dylan. The blonde is eyeing the liquors along the wall. Noting their questioning gaze, she shrugs.

"I'm just the driver."

And with that, they get up and make their way to the waiting booth. Isabelle and Charlie slide in first, Darwin and Lester following in after their targets. Jeeves sits down and Dylan takes the edge. He turns to her, knowing full well the answer to his next question.

"Your Hummer out there?"

"Touch it and you die."

He laughs at her seriousness and swallows half the beer. He glances at his brothers. Darwin is trying to remain some what mature and dignified, keen to impress Charlie. But Lester? Lester's a man with a one track mind, his hand already placed on Isabelle's smooth thigh. But she doesn't seem to mind, and is relishing the opportunity to teach him a thing or two. Dylan sighs, knowing she was just perhaps a little too harsh.

"You're a pretty good shot with that combat shot gun, unable to get one of the new ones yourself?"

He blinks and looks down at her, surprised by the sudden compliment. But her facial expression reveals nothing. He drinks the second half and places the empty bottle on the table with a thud.

"Yeah, all my contacts were dead ends."

He admits grudgingly. She laughs and takes a napkin, producing a pen from no where along with it. She scribbles a name and a number on it. Once finished, she folds it carefully and hands it to him. He pockets it and arches a eyebrow. She explains.

"Call the guy on the paper, he can get you one in about, two, three days."

"Uh, thanks. What you drinking?"

He invites, unsure of what else to say. She holds up a hand, eager to accept his offer but knowing full well she'd never hear the end of it if she got caught drinking by the other two.

"I'm the sober one tonight, hell, I'm the sober one every night."

Darwin leans in closer, looking over Charlie's shoulder as she explains something. He creases his eyebrow in slight confusion but moments later, understanding crosses his face and he nods. She's drawing some pictures on a napkin. His hands closes around hers and he adds something to the design. She casts him a glance at the hand but he merely shrugs, leaving his hand right where it is. Seconds pass and neither moves.

"You dancing with us?"

Isabelle asks, leading Lester out of the booth, like a dog on a leash. Darwin doesn't wait for Charlie's answer and snatches the rest of her body up. The four glance at Dylan and Jeeves, who in turn, look at each other. The answer is obvious.

"Fuck no."

The two chorus, staring at the four like they're madmen. But they only shrug and waltz off, dangerous glints in the girls' eyes.

"Are they looking this way?"

Dylan inquires. Jeeves casts a eye to the corner of the room where the four are dancing. He shakes his head. She sighs with relief and stands up quickly.

"Nope, why?"

"Thank fucking god, lets get a beer."

He grins at the answer, following her towards the bar. She motions for the barkeep who grins and slides down her way. He's a young man, twenty or so, still at the stage where he thinks he's invincible. He smoothes his brown hair and flashes her a white smile.

"Hello pretty lady, how may I help?"

"Well, for starters you can never call me that again. Secondly, two Krombachers."

She states calmly, placing a ten dollar bill on the counter. The bartender blushes and hands her two bottles, along with the change. She tilts the bottle up and chugs it down in three swift gulps. Jeeves all the while watches as her throat contracts and relaxes. He's never been so turned on by someone just drinking beer. He's brought back to reality by the slam of the empty bottle on the wooden table. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, quickly making sure the others didn't see. Jeeves drinks his slowly, but in large gulps. All the while, she watches the whole group of dancers with sarcastically raised eyebrows.

"Jesus Christ, don't any of them have some dignity left?"

She mutters more to herself than to Jeeves. But he hears, placing his bottle beside hers.

"You telling me they had dignity to begin with?"

She laughs at this and turns back to him.

"I'm going for a walk, they'll be dancing for hours."

"And leave me with this lot?! Fat fucking chance!"

He shakes his head, grabbing her by the back of her jacket collar. She arches an eyebrow that is both disappointed and impressed at the same time. She tries to snap the collar out of his grip but it remains firm and he smirks at her displeasure. She sighs.

"Come with me then!"

"Sweet."

He grins, not even bothering to glance back at his brothers' frowns as the two walk outside. Dylan salutes to the bouncer who cracks his gum and grins, casting Jeeves a weary eye but remains silent, knowing what's good for him.

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Darwin and Lester arch slightly worried eyebrows.

"He's gonna be disappointed with her, something tells me."

Darwin admits, but not moving any inch closer to the door. Lester nods in agreement and the two ladies suddenly burst into laughter.

"Trust me, Dylan can please any man. We once saw a guy about 6 foot 8 leave her bedroom, grinning from ear to ear. She wont be leading him on either, she ain't like that, that's more our department…"

Isabelle throws Charlie a glance. The brunette casually shrugs, neither confirming nor denying it. Darwin calmly slips an arm around Charlie, reminding her he is not a man to play around with. She acknowledges this by placing a gentle kiss on his jaw. He smirks with pleasure and castings Lester a challenging gaze. But Lester is far ahead, Isabelle's arms around his neck and his around her waist. The middle Tremor pulls away from the intense and passionate kiss, feeling his brother's stare. Charlie and Darwin blink and the other two shrug and resume.

"So, tell me, how'd you wind up in this business that we call contract killing? Seems a little weird for a girl with your brains to be smoking people out and shooting them, for a bit of cash."

Charlie laughs gently at the comment, knowing full well the truth it holds. Hell, even she wonders sometimes. One year she had just completed her degree in university, doing a conjoint in physics and computers. The next, she was wiping the sweat of a hard days work of killing from her brow.

"Isabelle, my sister, introduced me to Dylan. Dylan saw my potential, made the offer. I accepted."

"What? She blackmailed you? Can't see any other reason you'd accept."

Darwin scoffs, placing a kiss on her smooth neck. Charlie pauses, her mind dredging up memories she had tried to hide away. But a nudge from her partner continues her motion. She swallows.

"Revenge."

The reason is blurted out before she can even think of another excuse. It's Darwin's turn to freeze and the Tremor tilts her chin up.

"Revenge?"

"She knew who killed our parents, we didn't ask how or why, just who. She told us, then watched the killing unfold before her very eyes. She approved and we got the taste for easy money. But we've never looked back. Every bastard we've ever killed has always deserved it."

It's slightly defensive, even though Charlie knows this is one man she doesn't have to defend herself with. Hell, these three boys may have done things to make Dylan look tame, just maybe. But she's so used to lying about her reasons, so used to hiding the stomach clenching truth, that she feels exposed by the confession. Darwin shrugs though.

"Sounds like payback to me. That makes it perfectly legal."

Charlie laughs, tilting her head back. She pouts slightly.

"Don't say that, you'll take away half the fun of it all."

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Dylan lifts her head slightly and takes aim. She kicks the can sharply and sends it into a nearby car. The alarm pierces the silent street. The can rolls back to Jeeves's foot and he mimics the action and soon there's two alarms blaring through out the night. Neighbours start shouting, banging on walls and slamming windows shut. The two glance at each other and laugh, just a couple of hooligans at heart some would say.

They carry on walking, turning to go down an alley. A hobo looks up from his fire. He bares his teeth, warning them off. Dylan sniggers as they walk past, heading towards Mickey's again.

"I can recommend a great dentist."

They approach the door and a movement inside the window catches Dylan's eye. Her eyes widen as the door begins to open. She acts quickly and yanks Jeeves back, pressing his lips to hers. He eagerly accepts them and presses her up against the wall. He goes to pull away for a moment but she slips her arms around his neck, keeping one eye trained on the moving figures behind him. He dare not deny her and presses himself only closer. His tongue marks her territory inside her mouth, possessively claiming her as his and his alone.

At the start of the curse, Dylan is internally cursing herself. _You knew they were having a meeting there! Gary told you for Christ's sake! What are you playing at Dylan?! _But as the kiss continues, she finds that loud voice slipping away into nothingness as Jeeves started to demand more response from her. His tongue flicks against hers roughly and she is perceives it as a challenge and begins to fight back. She feels his smirk grow across his lips but before she can retaliate, the sound of car doors slamming and engines starting, catches her attention. As she hears the last vehicle turn the corner, she suddenly yanks herself away, a sigh of relief escaping her moist lips.

Jeeves glances down at the blonde, his brain desperately ordering his body to take in more oxygen to feed it. Her eyes dart quickly to the corner and then back to him, then once more to the corner. The cheeks aren't even flushed, indicating it will take a lot more to get her panting. That's fine, he has a lot more to give. He leans in to show her and she quickly attempts to step back, however, the brick wall stops her and his lips once again meet hers. He plants his arms either side, blocking off her exits, while he tries to taunt her into a another match of tongue wrestling. No sooner has he gained entranced into her mouth, she reminds him who's the boss.

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Charlie and Isabelle stare. Dylan and Jeeves are in the corner of their booth, Dylan sitting on Jeeves's lap. His arms are wrapped around her waist and a thumb is casually stroking an exposed strip of flesh while his head is bent over, kissing her, leaving occasional nips along the slender neck. Her eyes flick from his to her friends and she cocks an eyebrow.

"You ready to go home?"

Her voice is an impatient one and Jeeves bites down slightly harder at the thought of her leaving him. With one last kiss, he looks up at his brothers who are slightly awed by the sight of the blonde being tamed by their brother. Then again, it takes one animal to know another.

Charlie is leaning against Darwin, her head nestled against his thin chest. Darwin has his shirt unbuttoned, indicating that the two have been doing some dirty dancing, so to speak. One hand is on her ass, the other has entangled itself within her mass of brown curls. One finger lazily traces the hand stitched design again and again, while another tickles her behind the ear. A weakness he had accidentally discovered not so long ago, and was now willing to exploit to it's full extent. She giggles and reaches up to swat the pesky hand away. But he sees it coming and quickly removing the hand, wraps it around her wrist and drapes her arm around his neck.

Isabelle meanwhile is enjoying Lester's whispered promises as he breathes them huskily in her ear, occasionally flicking his tongue out, much like a snake. One of his hands is placed on the inside of her thigh and it's slowly rubbing her, every time, stopping a little higher than the time before. Her heeled foot is tapping against the floor, sending him vibrations that only encourage him more.

"Reckon so."

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_A/N: Sorry the update took so long. But I was in Germany and I did start my new Phantom of the Opera fan fiction (subtle advertising) and I'm a bit busy with the last year of high school thing going on. So uh, read and review. _


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